An old and dear friend writes to me about the probable loss of her sixteen year old cat who is suffering from renal failure. I know this pain all too well and I find myself almost too heartbroken to reply - words are such pitifully inadequate comfort and I'm too far away to stand by her and share her heartache. There's no easy way through these moments, no quick escape from the reality of loss. Her home will be emptier and her heart will hurt for a very long time - but she will find the strength and will to do what's necessary - she will offer up her own suffering to ease his. And one day she will think of him and smile at the memory, past the worst of the pain and grateful for the sixteen years. But for now it's about saying goodbye.
I have stood in hushed exam rooms, saying goodbye and waiting for a lethal injection to be prepared, too many times in my life. Death comes quickly and peacefully, the vet gently confirms it with her stethoscope, and it's over. All the before tears haven't helped much and I fight uselessly for control of my emotions but they break free anyway, as they must. The act of euthanasia is over but the coming to terms is just beginning - there are buckets of afterward tears still to come - acceptance is distant, shrouded by the immediate reality of what has just happened. The sense of loss is brutal and overwhelming and for several moments I think I cannot survive this and the world around me begins to fade in and out. Then, because what I have had done was right, because what I have done has released an animal I love beyond words from pain and sickness, another thought comes, You'll never hurt again, I think, You've been loved and now I give you back to God's care.
They are never with us long enough and once they're gone, missing them never really ends. They are, some say,
lesser creatures, not worth our emotional investment or grief. But those of us who love them, who care for them and share what we have with them for all their lives, know better.
When the time comes, we know it and we let them go because saying goodbye is really no more than putting their welfare ahead of our own.
For Iris.
For Rory.
And for Trevor.
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